Peter & Raymond
by Satan Abraham
Summary: In the (possibly) old-time city of Verona (or something), two families are caught up in a feud. On one side, the Garraty family reigns and on the other, the McVries clan. Of course, one night young Peter McVries decides that he needs to go to a certain party at the Garraty household. This is probably a good idea. Gavries. Romeo & Juliet AU
1. Act I Scene I

Ah, Verona. A fairly nice place, as far as places went. The prince of the town, Scramm, was a fair, just man whom was loved by all. The Prince had two young cousins, Barkovitch, 'friend' to the Garratys and Abraham, friend to the McVries clan.

The Garraty family and the McVries family were mortal enemies and had been as far back as anyone could remember.

On this day, Arthur Baker, kin to the McVries family, was walking the streets of Verona when he heard a fight. Fights were nothing new in Verona; if two servants from the opposing families ran into one another there was almost guaranteed a clash. Baker wasn't the biggest fan of fights – he just didn't see the sense in them, and though death fascinated him, he'd rather everyone lived.

So, he kept a hand on his sword and hurried to the source of the noise.

As he'd guessed, it was the servants of the Garraty house that had provoked the McVries servants. At least, that was what he thought was most probable – Collin Parker, kin to the Garratys was a very hot-headed lad and had begun pushing his beliefs onto the servants. Baker had run across him more than once and had not enjoyed these encounters.

But back to the present.

Baker pulled a rather mean-looking Garraty servant off of Peter McVries's manservant, a young blond boy named Percy. "Stop!" he yelled. The servants froze and Baker let go of the Garraty servant. "There," Baker said. "Percy, Curly, why don't you-"

"Arthur Baker."

And there was Parker. Baker immediately drew his sword, ready for trouble.

"Fighting with the servants? Goddam bastard," Parker said. Baker decided that having his sword out probably was not the best idea and hurriedly put it away.

"No, Parker. I only keep the peace." Noticing Parker's sword sitting lazily in his hand, Baker continued. He nudged Percy, a signal to tell him to run for back-up, just in case they needed it. "Put away your sword, unless you plan to use it to help me pacify these servants."

Parker laughed, and Baker backed up a few paces. Oh, why wasn't Abraham here? Abraham would be able to diffuse the tension with a joke, and even if it was offensive, he got along with Parker as well as it was possible to.

"Peace?" Parker nearly spat out the word. He discarded his shirt for no apparent reason, throwing it to the servant that had gone after Percy. "Peace is fuckin' overrated, just like you and those McVrieses you call kin. Unless you're a fucking coward – or have a death wish – you'll fight."

Baker barely had time to draw his sword again before Parker attacked. Baker parried, ducked, and played on the defense for two reasons: a) so that he couldn't be accused of starting it, no matter how hard Parker tried and b) Parker was a lot better than him and he couldn't get off of defense.

Thankfully, at this moment, one of the officers of the town and a group of civilians rushed onto the scene. Baker dropped his sword and let the civilians hold him; it made a far better impression that Parker, who was swearing and spitting and struggling. The officer himself had to wrench the sword out of his hands.

"Calm yourself!" the officer barked, and Parker glared. His bare chest glistened in the morning sun, and he looked like he was about to snap and kill all of them. "The Prince has been notified! Two young noble men such as yourselves-"

"Yeah, yeah, should be ashamed, who fuckin' cares," Parker snapped. "Let me go, I want to break his goddam face!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Baker could see Lord and Lady McVries (the Lady carrying the young Katrina, of course) enter the area. At the opposite end, Lord and Lady Garraty.

And then the Prince arrived. Baker was released (as was Parker, though the Officer looked like he wasn't sure if this was a good idea.)

Scramm looked around, a slightly bemused expression on his face. "I don't really see why you guys are fighting all the time-"

"'Cause they're fucking irritating," Parker said, glaring at the McVrieses. Katrina looked like she was going to burst into tears. "If you ask me, these bastards-"

"Why do you swear so much, Parker?" Scramm asked, but before Parker could answer, he continued. "This is getting kind of ridiculous."

"Shut the f-"

"Parker, I want to talk to you and the Garratys right now. Baker, you and the McVrieses after lunch," Scram said, nodding. He seemed satisfied with himself.

Before Baker could escape, the Lord McVries grabbed his arm. "Where is Peter?" he asked. Not bothering to wait for Baker's answer, he pressed on. "Who started it?"

"The servants of the Garratys," Baker said. He retrieved his sword and continued. "I tried to break it up, but… then Parker showed up. You can guess how that ended up."

All Baker wanted to do was leave this place and find Abraham. Abraham would take this story and twist it around so that it meant that Parker was obviously in love with Baker, or perhaps Percy, or even worse, Gary Barkovitch.

"Where is Peter?" the Lady McVries asked. Katrina clung to her mother and repeated the question.

"Where's Petey?"

Baker tore his thoughts away from Abraham and bit his lip. "I think… early this morning, yes, he ran off. Into the woods. I'm not sure where he was going." _Well, beyond moping about Priscilla, _he silently added.

Lord McVries sighed. "At least he is out of the house. Many a day has passed when all he will do is sit in his room with the shades drawn.

"Do you know the cause?" Baker asked. He, of course, knew that it was all because of Priscilla, but he wondered how much Peter's father knew.

"No," Lord McVries said. "He will not tell me."

"Have you at least tried to get it out of him?"

"I have tried. His mother has tried. But he is too secretive, and no-one can get him to talk."

Baker nodded, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted Peter McVries. He sported the scar that he'd gotten from his former 'girlfriend' – he hadn't actually been in a relationship with her, but had mooned after her until she'd gotten sick of it and decided to slash his face open with a dagger.

"There he is," Baker said. "I'll go talk to him and tell you what's wrong later."

"Alright," Lord McVries said, nodding. "Come, Lady, bring the baby and let us go home."

Baker waited a few moments, until both Lord and Lady were out of sight, then crossed over to greet his cousin. "Good morning, Peter!" he said, trying to be cheerful. Peter McVries just looked at him and Baker fidgeted, wondering where Abraham was. Abraham would be able to broach the subject of Priscilla without being too awkward.

"Is the day really so young?" Peter sighed, finally speaking. Baker wondered if he should get straight to the point, then decided to tiptoe around it for a few more moments.

"It's about nine," Baker said. Peter rolled his eyes. Oh. His question must have been rhetorical.

But he had a dramatic response, as usual. "Sad hours seem long. That was my father, wasn't it?"

A bit startled by the sudden change in subject, it took Baker a while to form a response. "Yeah," he finally said. "But back to your sad hours. Why are you so sad?"

Peter began to walk, trailing his hand across everything he passed as he formed a typical Peter, confusing response. "That which makes them short has gone."

"What's with the Shakespearean English?" Percy asked, popping up beside them. Baker shushed him, and decided that it was the perfect time to breach the subject he'd come to talk about.

"Are you in love?"

"Out-"

"Out of love?" Baker asked, interrupting him. Peter gave him one of his withering looks, and Baker managed a smile. "Sorry. Continue."

"Out of her favor. I am still in love with her, but she… is not so in love with me," Peter sighed, absentmindedly passing a hand over his scar.

"Love sucks," Baker agreed, his thoughts once more turning to Abraham. He shook the ginger from his mind. This was Peter's problem. He could deal with his own problems later.

"Love sucks," Peter repeated. "That's the understatement of the year." He looked closely at Baker, who had been thinking of Abraham again. "Are you laughing at me?"

Unfortunately, Baker had been thinking of one of Abraham's more amusing moments. "No, Peter, I weep."

"Why?"

"Uh… because you are unloved. I mean, at your heart's oppression." This apparently satisfied Peter, who nodded.

"You're a good kid, Baker," he said, then glanced around. The place had emptied considerably. "Well, then. Farewell."

"No!" Baker said. Peter paused and looked at him. "I shall come with you!"

"You really don't want to be around me right now," Peter warned. Baker shrugged it off and continued.

"Who is your love?"

He knew who this love was, of course. Everyone knew but Peter's parents.

"Don't make me say her name," Peter said, sighing once more. Wasn't he overdramatic this morning.

"Please, Peter." At this point Baker was trying to get some sort answer for no apparent reason.

Peter McVries hesitated, then opened his mouth to answer. "I do love a woman."

"I figured as much," Baker said. Peter grinned a little.

"Well, I'm not queer," he said, then continued. "She's hot. The one I love, I mean."

"That's great," Baker said, more than a little unnerved.

"But she doesn't want me. Or any man, I think. She's been swept off her feet by another woman. Jan, friend to the Garratys."

"Well," Baker said. "That would be a problem."

Peter was about to go off on some romantic speech about this girl, so Baker said something before he could.

"Forget about her."

"Forget? I can't-"

"Abraham has an invitation to the Garraty party," Baker said. "Come with us. You can find a new love there."

"Or perhaps she will be there-"

"Forget. Your. Former. Love. And. Find. A. New. One."

* * *

**CAN YOU TELL THAT I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.**

**But, yes. This is a Romeo and Juliet, starring Peter McVries as Romeo and I think we can all guess who Juliet is. Baker is Benvolio, Parker is Tybalt, et cetera.**

**This will basically follow the storyline, with some extra scenes here and there. **

**Also I'm both a Bakeraham and Benvolio/Mercutio shipper, so expect much shippyness.**

**Anyway.**

**How'd you like it?**


	2. Act I Scene II

Pearson was just a servant.

When he'd been younger, he'd had a friend named Harkness. One day, Harkness had come to Pearson's house, boasting of his new job at the McVries home. Pearson had tried to get a job at the same place, but it hadn't happened, and now Pearson worked for the Garratys. He hadn't spoken to Harkness in years.

And he had a feeling that he wouldn't any time in the near future, unless some drastic changes took place.

But he couldn't be thinking of Harkness right now. Gary Barkovitch, kin to the Prince Scramm and possible future husband of Raymond Garraty, was here. Pearson wasn't exactly sure why the Lord Garraty needed him there, but he needed this job.

Well, he could probably get another job, but what he was doing now had a great retirement plan.

"I don't understand why Scramm is blaming us," Lord Garraty said. "Parker is a bit hot-headed, but-"

"Parker's a dick," Barkovitch muttered. "But Baker looks too innocent to be completely in the right. But, uh, anyway. What do you think of… you know…"

"Ray is sixteen, but he's seriously the most naïve kid in Verona. The only one that rivals him is Larson," Lord Garraty mused, looking dramatically off into the distance. Pearson saw Barkovitch follow his gaze, then look away, confused.

"He's older than me, though," Barkovitch pointed out.

Lord Garraty sighed. "If he doesn't like you, though-"

"Of course he'll like me! Who wouldn't like me? I'm completely likeable!" Barkovitch was sounding more than slightly hysterical. Lord Garraty looked taken aback.

"Well," he said. "I wasn't debating how likeable you are. But Ray is a bit confused by homosexuality sometimes. However…"

The two leaned close together, and Pearson inched closer out of curiosity. Lord Garraty put a hand on Barkovitch's shoulder and drew him closer. Pearson had to strain his ears to hear.

"If you manage to get him to fall for you, you have my permission and blessing to marry him," Lord Garraty said. Barkovitch nodded, eyes wide and dark. "I will welcome you into my house, and you will inherit it when I die."

Pearson could see the traces of a smile making its way across Barkovitch's face. "Alright," Barkovitch said. "Yes. I mean, thank you."

Lord Garraty released Barkovitch and turned toward Pearson. "Servant!"

Pearson jumped and straightened. "Yes, Lord Garraty?"

Lord Garraty thrust a paper into Pearson's hands. "Go around Verona and spread word of the party we are having tonight. A sort of… second invitation, if you will. I have already sent out individual invitations, but some people may have forgotten or accidentally incinerated them."

Pearson nodded, and Lord Garraty exited. He was left with Barkovitch, who shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. He was about to leave when Collie – Collin was his proper name, but he preferred Collie, and Pearson wasn't about to argue with him – Parker entered, sweating and swearing and angry.

Barkovitch's expression changed from the nervous innocence it had had for Lord Garraty to a sort of annoyed, angry dislike. "Get into another fight, Blondie?"

Parker whirled around and spotted Barkovitch. Pearson was glad for the ability that all servants seemed to have to blend in with the scenery. "Barkobitch," Parker spat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Barkovitch said, raising his chin loftily. In a flash, Parker had him pinned against a wall. "Damn it, Blondie! Let me go, dickhead!"

Pearson decided that it would probably be in his best interests to leave before things got bloody or possibly R-rated, considering all the sexual tension these two had. He began to edge away, and nearly made it out of hearing range before he heard a gasping, slightly breathless "Parker!" that could really only mean one thing.

Red-faced, Pearson checked the first person on his list. Abraham – oh, he knew Abraham. The ginger often visited Parker; he was one of the only human beings able to get along with the brute. And he didn't live too far from here, either!

Lounging outside of Abraham'

S house were two teenagers – a black-haired boy with an ugly scar running down his face and a sweet-looking blond. They were chatting aimlessly.

"You'll be fine," the blond said. "You just need… a new person. A girl, or a boy, if you've decided to join the group of massively gay people in Verona, of which there are many. It'll be like a… like a cure."

"A cast will be a good cure for you," Scarface muttered. The blond looked confused.

"What? Why would-"

"To help heal that broken leg you're about to get!"

The blond looked alarmed, backing up a few paces. "Whoa, just take it easy, man."

"How can I 'take it easy, man' when I am a victim of unrequited love – oh, hello," Scarface said, turning his attention to Pearson.

"Um, hello," Pearson said. He was briefly distracted by a sidewalk. "Do you think you could pass a message on to Abraham? Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately," Scarface said. The blond giggled nervously.

"Could you pass this message on to him?" Pearson asked, repeating himself. Scarface grabbed the paper from Pearson and scanned it.

"Art, write this down," Scarface said. "Party thrown by the Garratys, Abe's invited. Oh, so is Priscilla…"

"And her girlfriend," Art said. "Get over it."

Scarface sighed, then turned back to Pearson and handed back the paper. "Where is this party?"

"Up at my master's house," Pearson said. "The Garraty household… you could come, too, if you're not of the McVries home. Or related to them."

Before Pearson left, he heard a quick conversation between the two. "Priscilla will be there!" Scarface hissed.

"Yes, but so will many other girls. And boys. There are many hot guys in Verona," Art countered.

"I am not a homosexual."

"Yeah, sure," Baker said, rolling his eyes. "But come anyway."

"…Just to see Priscilla."

* * *

**This is quite a bit shorter than the last chapter, but the scene itself was shorter, so I'm not getting (very) lazy.**

**Also, random little Parkovitch in there. I know that Stebbins/Barkovitch has been getting popular and I'm not against that pairing, but Parkovitch will always be my preferred Barkovitch pairing because it's just perfect.**

**Anyway! Next chapter I believe we get to see Ray himself, so stay tuned for that. :)**


	3. Act I Scene III

When people asked what Henry Olson did for a living, he always avoided telling them the specifics. It wasn't that he didn't like his job – it was a decent job, it paid well, and it looked like he was a sort of paid companion to Ray Garraty. It was the title he hated.

_Nurse._

As far as he knew, the _actual_ nurse had died when Ray was about eight and Olson had been shoved in her place. He had been seven, skinny, and starving in the streets, watching people like Peter McVries and Gary Barkovitch and that _goddam Abraham_ parade by in their finery and with their full bellies. And then Lord Garraty had come along. He'd asked Olson if he wanted a job – _yes, _of course he wanted a job, a job meant money and money meant food – and then there he was, playmate and so-called 'nurse' of Ray Garraty.

Thankfully, nobody _actually _called him Nurse. He was Olson to most, Henry to some, and Hank to Ray and Collie.

Hopefully nothing would change once Ray was married off.

Lady Garraty entered the room Olson had been in (he'd been looking for his shoes; somehow he'd lost them) and cleared her throat. Olson jumped, hit his head on the underside of the bed, and, muttering swears under his breath, backed up so that he could see what she wanted.

"Yeah?" Olson asked, brushing dust off of his shirt and knees.

"Where is Raymond?" Lady Garraty asked. Olson shrugged; he hadn't seen Ray since breakfast. "Could you find him for me?"

"Alright," Olson said, nodding and heading out of the room. "Ray! Hey! Ray! Where are you?"

Ray popped out of a random room, holding his knitting in one hand. "Huh?" he asked. His blond hair was messed up on one side, like he hadn't bothered to brush it after waking up. "Who's calling for me?"

"Your mom," Olson said, and Ray grinned.

"Ha ha. No, seriously-"

"Actually, your mother does want you," Olson said, and Ray blinked. "C'mon."

After making their way back to the room where Ray's mother waited, Ray dropped his knitting. "Hi, mom," he said. His mother smiled at him. "What do you want?"

"Well," Lady Garraty said. She glanced at Olson. "Olson, if you could leave?"

Olson shrugged and left the room, though he was curious. There was be no harm in pressing his ear to the door to listen in, right?

After a few seconds, however, the door was opened and Olson fell back into the room. He looked up at Lady Garraty, who looked half-amused, half-disapproving, and Ray, who was almost dying laughing. "Well," Lady Garraty said. "I was going to suggest you come back in, but it appears you were listening in anyway."

"Uh," Olson said, offering a grin. "Sorry?"

"Olson, you know that my son is young," Lady Garraty said. Ray shifted awkwardly.

"He's older than me," Olson said. Lady Garraty nodded. "Sixteen, almost seventeen – when's his birthday?"

"In a few weeks," Lady Garraty said.

Olson nodded. "Yeah. A few weeks. And then he'll be seventeen."

"You guys realize that I am here, right?" Ray asked. Olson looked at him and smiled, and he seemed reassured.

"Man, I remember when we were little," Olson said, grinning a little. "And you made him take dancing lessons. And he didn't want to go, but then when Jan showed up he was glad for it, and it turned out that she was a lesbian all along-"

"Olson," Lady Garraty said. "Shut up."

"Sorry," Olson said, still grinning. "I still think it's funny that she turned out to be a lesbian, though. She's hooked up with Priscilla by now, hasn't she?"

"Please shut up, Hank," Ray sighed. He was a bit pink. Olson could understand why – if his first love had turned out to be homosexual, he'd be a bit embarrassed, too.

"Sorry, sorry," Olson said. "But I heard you're getting married now! Is it a guy or a girl? 'Cause, I know there are a lot of gay guys in Verona. I think Parker is. There's been a short, annoying guy showing up in his rooms lately."

"Thank you for blatantly telling him," Lady Garraty said. Olson managed to keep a hold on his grin. Now that he thought about it, Ray _hadn't _been told yet. Oops. "But, Ray, what do you think about getting married?"

"Well," Ray said, swallowing. "I… I don't really… it's okay, I guess."

Olson grinned. "Well said."

"Well, you know that people younger than you have already been married off," Lady Garraty said. "In fact, I was married when I was younger than you. And… Gary Barkovitch wishes to ask for your hand."

That was the one that hung around Parker! Olson thought, but didn't say anything. Ray paled. "But… but he's a guy."

"He's an adorable little guy," Lady Garraty said. Olson grinned and nudged Garraty with his elbow.

"Yeah," he said. "Adorable."

Ray swallowed. "I…"

"Well? Could you love him, or at least tolerate him? Because he is adorable, even though he does have a slight acne problem. I think you'd love being married to him," Lady Garraty said. "Please consider."

Ray was still pale, but he nodded. "I… I'll consider it."

Olson grinned again. This was _great._

Larson, their top servingman, poked his head through the door. Olson answered it. "What."

"The guests are here," Larson said.

Lady Garraty nodded. "Okay," she said. "Ray, Barkovitch will be here tonight. Please think over his offer."

Before leaving, Olson grinned at Garraty once more. "Have fun."

* * *

**I felt a little weird about putting Olson as the Nurse, but it worked out, right? **

**Anyway, sorry this wasn't updated last week; I got sick and couldn't get a chapter of this done. Even though I got like three chapters of Healing done.**

**Yeah.**

**I don't really.**

**Whatever.**


	4. Act I Scene IV

Peter McVries wasn't sure about this.

On one hand, Priscilla would be there. He knew that for sure; the invitation that servant had brought carried her name. On the other hand, Peter really just felt like locking himself in his room and brooding.

And there was the small matter that if caught, he'd probably be killed. But Peter McVries didn't really care about that.

He caught up to Baker, who was trailing beside Abraham with a stupid look on his face. "So, what're we saying for this? What's our excuse?"

Baker tore his gaze away from the ginger at last, glancing back at Peter. "Huh? What do you mean?" Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "We're just crashing and finding you a new girlfriend and pretty much getting you to forget Priscilla."

Peter sighed and reached for the torch Baker carried. Abraham and his psycho friends were bouncing around, yelling and swearing and doing handstands and cartwheels. Before he could take it, however, Abraham slapped his hand away, grinning.

"No, Pete, come _dance_," Abraham said, grabbing Peter by both hands and pulling him stumbling out of the crowd of drunk – on alcohol or life, the how was uncertain – Veronians. Abraham spun Peter, laughing as Peter stumbled around him. Eventually, Pete managed to pull away and place his hand on a wall to steady himself.

"I don't dance," Peter said simply, and Abraham raised an eyebrow. "You're all bright and happy and shit, but I'm… my soul is solid lead."

"What a poet," Abraham said, grinning wider. Maybe he was high? "Romantic. Borrow Cupid's wings and use them to soar across the sky!"

Everyone stopped and looked at him, and Abraham looked confused. Eventually Baker broke the silence. "Um," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I…" Abraham looked around at them. "I think something is wrong with me. I feel the strangest urge to talk some weird shit about dreams."

"Well," Baker said. "No harm in talking about dreams."

"It's weird as hell," Abraham said, then grabbed a flask from one of his friends and drained it. He blinked, stumbled a little, and tossed the flask aside. "Alright. Let's do this shit. Peter. Your line."

"What?" Peter asked, exchanging a confused look with Baker.

Abraham made an impatient hand motion. "C'mon, c'mon, take cupid's wings for a spin."

"Uh," Peter said. "I… I don't think so."

Abraham rolled his eyes, but let that be enough. "What'd you call it? His heart's oppressed?" he asked Baker. Baker nodded and Abraham grinned. "Love is too tender for an oppressed heart, I assume. Love is for weirdos."

Peter blinked. "Uh," he said. "You're delusional. Love sucks. Sleepless nights, hopeless feelings, wanting to kill yourself after she kills you-"

"You're making it very hard for me to say my lines, Pete," Abraham said. Peter wondered what the hell he was talking about, like this entire thing was scripted. Abraham slung an arm over his shoulder and bent his head to talk directly into his ear. "If love is rough with you, be rough with love! Murder love! Trick love! Hell, go gay or something! Love'll never see that coming!"

"That's what I told him," Baker said. He'd moved away from the crowd to stand near Abraham. "He yelled at me."

"Just give me this," Peter snapped, grabbing the torch from Baker. "You guys can be crazy all you want. I'll go Designated Driver."

Most of the people there really had no idea what Peter was talking about – hell, Peter himself didn't know what he was talking about, he suspected the only one who did was Abraham, who was nodding sagely – but they went with it.

"Oh my _god_, you're lame," Abraham said. "Mister Love – if that _is _your real name."

"It's not," Peter said. "I never claimed that-"

"C'mon, waste time with us! Burn daylight! You're young and beautiful, act like it! Don't say anything about the scar, it makes you a bad boy! Chicks dig a bad boy, don't they, Art?" Abraham said, nudging Baker with his elbow. "Which is why you don't have a girlfriend. You're too sweet."

"I don't have a girlfriend because I am gay," Baker said bluntly. "There is no shortage of girls interested in me. A lot more than that like you."

"You shut up," Abraham said. "Besides, it's against the rules for the funny guy to have a girlfriend – hey, wait, don't I have a nameless girlfriend? One who wanted to make some letter into a t-shirt at the Shirt Shack?"

Abraham was becoming aware that he was in a fanfiction.

"What rules?" Baker asked. Nobody had heard the bit about the Shirt Shack, thank God.

"Funny?" McVries wondered. Abraham gave him the finger and continued.

"Seriously, Pete, you're dragging the morale of this gang down. Get happy or get out," he said.

"What's even the point of going? It's stupid," Peter said. There was a collective gasp. Abraham stepped closer to him – _Jesus, _this guy had no concept of personal space.

"What." He said flatly. "What makes you say that, McVries?"

Now Peter got what Abraham had been saying, with the talking weird shit about dreams. "Well," Peter said. "I had a dream last night."

"Yeah?" Abe replied. "Me too."

"About what?"

"That you're a fucking liar."

"Excuse you," Peter said, insulted. "It was a very accurate depiction of what will probably happen tonight."

"Oh? Then I see some fairy queen or whatever has been with you." Abraham looked around to make sure that everyone was listening. Everyone was – though Peter only out of skepticism and lack of something better to listen to. "She's a fairy mom or some shit, and she rides around in this little rock with a spiderweb on it or something. She makes weirdos with romantic lives dream about love, lame people dream about lame stuff, psychos like Collie dream about killing people, people like-"

"Abraham," Peter said. "Shut up. You don't make any sense."

"You're right! I never make any sense! I _never make any goddam sense and it's killing me!" _Abraham was screeching now, and Peter patted his head awkwardly.

"Well," Baker said. "This is a nice conversation and all, but we already missed the food, and if we're any later we'll miss the whole thing."

"Fine!" Peter said, throwing up his hands in defeat. Baker tugged at his sleeve.

"Then c'mon, let's go."

* * *

**baker's got his priorities straight**

**also uh**

**this took a while sorry but i really don't have an excuse just sorry**


	5. Act I Scene V

Collie Parker hated these things.

It wasn't that he didn't like having a good time. No, Collie Parker was the fucking king of having a good time. It was just these goddam parties where the entire fucking city (except the McVries clan, in a sign of passive-aggressive hatred) was invited.

Why the hell couldn't they just go murder those fucking McVrises? They'd already stolen away his goddam best friend. He'd go steal him back. Murder Peter McVries and Arthur Baker and the parents but not the little girl because, well, she was kind of four years old and he wasn't about to kill a four year old.

Now he stood, sulking in a corner with his sword by his side and a scowl on his face, listening to the servers freak out about something or another. Something about "Where the hell is Pearson? He was supposed to be here helping!" and "There aren't enough of us; I knew they shouldn't have laid off all those workers last year." and "Shut up and get this done."

Ewing and Rank, two of Parker's least favorite students because Ewing would always change up one thing when you told him what to do and Rank was hotheaded, stupid as fuck, and had once attacked Parker's Barkobitch once when the prick had tried to sneak in his window one night, appeared at the door.

"What?" Larson asked.

"You're late," Ewing said. "They're asking for you."

"Fuck them," Aaronson said, bending over a side-dish plate and arranging some green shit Parker suspected he would hate. "They can wait."

"C'mon, hurry up," Ewing said and Parker, bored with servants' talk, headed out into the main room. If they were wanting the servants, something interesting was bound to be happening.

Lord Garraty was speaking. Parker leaned against a wall and watched, briefly wondering if Abraham was here.

"The gates have closed!" Lord Garraty said, his gaze sweeping over his guests. "Welcome! Gentlemen, I think you'll find plenty of pretty ladies to dance with, or, if you're so inclined, other men. Ah, I remember when I was that young… Owens! How long ago was it when we did that, before we produced Ray and Jimmy?"

"Twenty, thirty years ago," Owens said. The Owens family had been friend to the Garratys for a long time – Parker remembered playing with Jimmy Owens and Ray Garraty as children and later, of course, Hank Olson had joined them.

"No, no, less than that," Lord Garraty said, waving his hand. "Fifteen years."

"No, my eldest is thirty," Owens said.

"What? But he was a child two years ago!"

"Try twelve years," Owens said, grinning. Parker rolled his eyes. Fuckin' old people.

Hold on… just over there, talking to Pearson… that boy. With the dark hair and scar on his face. Parker _knew _that boy; he just couldn't place where he'd seen him before…

Fuck it. He'd just have to listen in on what they were saying.

"Who's the kid that's talking to that prick?" the scarred boy asked, pointing to Ray, who was trapped in an awkward conversation with a bright red, fumbling Barkovitch.

Pearson, who looked like he had no idea what Scarface was talking about, shrugged. "Dunno."

"Damn, he's hot," Scarface said. Parker rolled his eyes. "I mean, I'm straight, I think. But damn. Like, Priscilla is nothing compared to him. Wow."

Priscilla… holy fuck, Peter goddam McVries had managed to sneak his way in.

Parker hurried over to Lord Garraty, who was currently arguing loudly with some old guy. Not Owens; he'd gone over to the food and was picking things off of random plates. "There is a McVries over there," he said through clenched teeth. "He is so goddam disrespectful. Let me kill him."

"What?" Lord Garraty asked. "Why are you so mad?"

"There is a fucking McVries here," Parker said bluntly.

"Peter, is it?"

"Yeah, it's that bastard."

"Leave him alone," Lord Garraty said, much to Parker's horror. "He's young, let him enjoy himself. Pretend he's not here, if you must. I will not have him murdered in my house."

"If that _bastard_ is our _goddam guest…_" Parker said, his voice dangerously low. "I won't have it."

"You will have it, or you'll be out on the streets. I'll not have a mutiny during Ray's party."

Parker narrowed his eyes. "Shame."

"Well aren't you a sassy one," Lord Garraty said. "You've just got to contradict everything!"

Parker left, Lord Garraty shouting that he was a sassy bastard after him. "Fuckin' fine," he muttered. "But he's talkin' to Ray, and I can let them… declare their goddam love to each other or anything."

He crouched behind a table, watching Peter McVries and Raymond Garraty interact. That goddam McVries was obviously enamored with Ray.

"Save my rough hands with a soft kiss!" McVries proclaimed. Ray was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Uh," he said. "Or we could just shake hands."

"That's what old men do," McVries said. "We're young. We can kiss each other."

"That's gay."

"Let lips do what hands do!"

"Woah there," Ray said, taking a step back. "Let's slow this down."

"No, no, that's me subtly and cleverly telling you I want to kiss you," Peter McVries said. "So? What do you say?"

"Whatever you want. Whatever you-"

Ray was cut off by Peter McVries kissing him full on the mouth. Parker held his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. That goddam bastard. _That goddam bastard._

"That's a sin," Ray said, a little breathlessly.

"Then give me my sin again," Peter McVries said, grinning widely and kissing Ray again.

If this bastard didn't get out of this house this instant Parker was going to fucking kill him.

But there was Hank Olson, coming from what looked like a fight with Abraham if the blood dripping from his nose was any indication. He forced his way inbetween Ray and Peter, pushing them apart. Parker could see Art Baker running over as well. Great. Another one.

"You're a good kisser," Ray said. Peter McVries kept grinning.

"I try-"

"Yeah, okay, Ray, your mom's looking for you," Olson said. Parker was grateful that he'd cut in. He didn't feel like watching McVries make out with Ray for longer than was necessary.

"Who's his mom?" McVries asked. Parker facepalmed. The asshole didn't even know who he was kissing. Jesus Christ, what an idiot.

"Oh God," McVries said. "He's – he's a Garraty?"

"Pete, I think it's time to go," Baker said, touching McVries's arm.

"Yeah, I guess," McVries said, heading off. Baker followed. Parker heard Lord Garraty yell something to the two, something about 'don't go yet, oh whatever, night, thanks for coming.'

"Hank," Ray asked. "Who was that?"

"Uh…" Olson said, obviously knew who it had been, but didn't want to say. "Well, there's Milligan over there-"

"No, not that one-"

"You mean Milligan!"

"No, I don't mean Milligan. Who was the guy that kissed me and possibly turned me a little gay for him," Ray asked. Olson shrugged.

"Dunno."

"Well, go figure out who the hell he is! And if he's married. God, I hope he's not married…"

Parker decided to jump in at this time; after all, Hank wasn't going to be talking any time soon. He stood up, his knees cracking audibly.

"It's fuckin' Peter McVries," Parker said. "You know, the prick that happens to be your mortal enemy."

"Well," Ray said. "Fuck."

"Don't tell me…" Olson said, staring at Ray.

"Yep," Ray said. "I kissed a McVries."

**[END OF ACT I]**

* * *

well hasn't it been a while

but uh

there should be more regularly scheduled updates


	6. Act II Scene I

Now that the first act has finished and our young lovers have met, the real story can begin. Peter McVries is in love again; just based on looks, of course, but aren't the beginnings of every love based on looks? It will be difficult for the two of them, what with their families being rivals and Raymond being engaged to Barkovitch, but they will try to work it out.

They will try.

"How can I go home while my heart stays here?" Peter said to himself, looking up at the sky. He'd lost Baker – the kid had started talking to Abraham again so Peter had just ditched him. "Why can I not go _back _to him?"

Really, Peter didn't know why he was being so angsty when there was no-one around to hear him, but it just seemed right. Lately he'd been feeling very angsty.

He could hear Baker and Abraham. Peter didn't want to leave yet – and he sure as hell didn't want to listen to how much of a good time Abraham had fucking had. So he hid. He crouched behind a bush, watching the two walk past. They'd lost the rest of Abraham's gang somehow. That was good. Less of a likelihood of someone seeing him.

Baker was calling for him.

"Peter! Peter, where are you? Peter!"

"C'mon Art, he's obviously the smarter person and in bed. Let's join him," Abraham said, pulling on Baker's sleeve. Yes, yes, that was good. Take him away, Abraham.

"No, I saw him over here," Baker said stubbornly, and Peter rolled his eyes. "Help me call."

"Alright," Abraham said. He sounded exasperated. "Hey! Peter! Scarface! Bastard! Dickhead! Say something! You're all love freaked, talk to your patron goddess Venus! Or her kid, Young Abraham – hey, that's my name! – Cupid! That guy made a king fall for a beggar, he could probably make Priscilla straight! I talked to her tonight, you know! She's hot! Come out!"

"You're just going to make him mad," Baker said. Baker was right. Peter McVries was mad. Basically, he was digging his fingernails so far into his palms he was drawing blood. Fucking Abraham.

"Like this'd make him mad," Abraham said, rolling his eyes. "He's got a high tolerance level. Sure, I was sort of being an asshole, but, you know, it's not like I mean any of it."

Baker looked straight at Peter and Peter shut his eyes, hoping that Baker didn't see him. "Abe, he's right over there."

"I'm not going to talk to him when he's this fucked up," Abraham said plainly. "See you later, Pete! I'm going to bed! C'mon, Baker, let's head out."

Baker sighed. "Fine. I guess he wants to be alone."

The two left and Peter McVries breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank God. They were finally gone.

* * *

**this one is really short but the scene is really short and i would've squished it together with the next one but the next one is the super-long balcony scene so i decided here have a cute little mini-update**


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